


Thankful

by followyourenergy



Series: Kinda Like Love [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Holiday Stress, Holiday Traditions, M/M, Professor Castiel, Teacher Dean Winchester, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, overachiever Castiel, supportive family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 12:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followyourenergy/pseuds/followyourenergy
Summary: Dean Milton wants his husband to keep it simple, but Cas Milton wants to give his family a Thanksgiving to remember.





	Thankful

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is the first timestamp for my longer fic “Kinda Like Family, Kinda Like Love.” You don’t need to read the original fic, but it will give you the backstory on our boys and their family (it’s a little long, but it’s 95% fluff). If you’re interested, you can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527815/chapters/33566391.
> 
> Enjoy! (And Happy Thanksgiving for those who will celebrate or have already celebrated!)

Dean Milton is a thankful man. He’s thankful for his beautiful twin boys, Jamie and Robbie. He’s thankful for his awesome job as a Kindergarten teacher and his even more awesome coworkers, many of whom he counts as friends. He’s thankful for his huge, incredibly supportive and tight-knit family. And of course, he’s thankful for his husband Cas, the love of his life, who stuck by him while he figured out his sexuality and his Daddy issues.

What he’s not thankful for is that his beloved husband has discovered cooking magazines. And television shows. And websites. Because now his husband is fretting over having the “perfect” Thanksgiving, which they’re hosting for the first time.

“We don’t own any of those piping gun things with the fancy tips. And do you really want to use a blowtorch to melt sugar with all the kids around? Never mind Gabriel,” he says over video chat. “Besides, you’re gonna be exhausted.” Cas is in Vancouver for some academic conference and will only make it home a few days before the holiday.

“I’ll be fine.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to play sous-chef for you when I can’t even pronounce some of this stuff.” He glances at Cas’ chicken scratch and loosely folded printouts of recipes in his planning notebook, which sits on the dining room table. Sometimes his tech-savvy husband likes to go old school.

“You don’t have to. I’m going to be handling it all. Your job will be to play host and keep the kids entertained.”

_Shit_. He knows where this is going. For all his husband’s amazing qualities, he is _not_ good at asking for help and tends to take on too much. “Babe, don’t do this to yourself. We don’t need ‘Pommes Duchesses’ or whatever when we can just have mashed potatoes. They’re the same thing.”

“These will have a nice crunch,” Cas argues.

“Potatoes aren’t supposed to crunch. And oyster stuffing? Just shucking the oysters is gonna be a pain in the… butt,” Dean argues back, editing his response since the kids are in the room. “Listen. Get a box of stuffing and add water. Easy. There’s a reason they sell it that way.”

“Dean…”

“Babe, I know you want everything to be nice, and it will be because we’re all together. No one’s gonna care about anything fancy. I mean, your mom puts Marshmallow Fluff on top of the sweet potatoes, for crying out loud. No one’s gonna care if the peas are from a can. Keep it simple.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Dean knows he’s not going to think about it.

Cas doesn’t think about it. He wants the first holiday dinner they host to be special, and damn it, he’s going to make it one to remember.

It won’t be that hard, he reasons. Yes, he’s been working more than usual thanks to traveling and covering for a colleague who needed emergency surgery, so he couldn’t make ahead and freeze several of the dishes like he’d wanted to, but he’s not worried. He’s very organized and patient. He’ll be home a few days before the big day, so he figures he can make some dishes after the kids go to bed. He’ll stop at the grocery store on his way home from the airport. He’s satisfied that everything will go to plan.

Arriving at the parking garage on Monday night, he finds the first wrench in his plan. Or, more accurately, the first nail in his tire, which has deflated it. To add to the situation, some asshole parked too close to him and he doesn’t have space to jack up the minivan to change it. He sighs and calls his emergency roadside service, then Dean, who frets and wants to meet up with him. Cas tells him not to bother, since it’ll throw the kids off their routine and they’ll just be standing around, anyway. By the time he’s rescued, it’s late and he’s tired. He forgoes the groceries and rushes home to at least say goodnight to the kids, but they’re already in bed by the time he walks in the door.

“I tried to keep them awake,” Dean says with an apologetic twist of his mouth. “They had a busy day.”

“It’s alright,” Cas answers, knowing Dean did his best.

“I’m still awake, though,” his husband reminds him. Dean wraps his arms around his waist and sways them slowly.

“Yes, yes you are,” Cas purrs as he inches closer. Dean pulls him in for a hot, heady kiss and makes him forget all about tires and groceries.

Cas remembers the next day, though, and frets about having time to shop, buy a new tire to replace his spare, and teach the last day of classes before break.

“I’ll take the van in,” Dean says over the chatter of the boys, who have eaten and are banging their sippy cups on the floor, enjoying the noise. “You take Baby. I’ll drop the van off at the garage and get a loaner.”

“You are the best,” Cas says, relieved and ever grateful for his husband’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you, hon.”

“Anything for you, babe.” Dean slips on his coat as Cas scoots down onto the floor with the boys, then Dean comes down to their level for their cuddle huddle. The boys are too squirmy and big to hold them and wait at the door like they used to, so Dean and Cas bring the family hug to them. Dean plants loud, sloppy kisses to the boys’ cheeks, then a softer, longer one on his husband’s lips. “Love you. Keep it simple, okay? We don’t need caviar for Thanksgiving.”

“I wasn’t going to buy caviar for Thanksgiving,” Cas grumbles. “That’s for Christmas.”

Dean holds Cas’ serious gaze for a moment. “Liar,” he laughs as Cas’ face breaks into a grin. Dean kisses him soundly again before heading out the door.

He’s glad that Cas can joke around about the caviar, but he's still worried. “He’s going to try to do way too much, accept zero help, and we’re all gonna be eating turkey sandwiches because nothing else will be done,” he complains in the teachers’ lounge. “We’ll be fine, but he’s gonna feel horrible.”

“Aww, poor guy just wants to make things nice for you guys,” Donna says, rubbing Dean’s back. “Your husband is the sweetest.” Dean smiles and agrees.

“Took me a few years to break Jesse out of that habit,” Cesar says from across the room.

Dean’s smile turns into a scowl. “Not helping, man.”

“Sorry,” he grins, not looking all that sorry.

“You should buy all the ingredients you’ll need for something simpler, just in case,” Crowley suggests before sipping his English Breakfast tea.

Dean considers it. He doesn’t want Cas to feel bad, but it might be good to have a back-up plan, especially with all of their nieces and nephew there. The kids, great as they are, will probably get grumbly if lunch is delayed or changed up altogether. Plus, kids hate fancy food. Cas knows that. He’s been a doting uncle for a long time. Better to avoid tantrums if possible. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that,” Dean nods.

On the way home, after picking up the van, Dean shops for a few staples: potatoes, carrots, cans of corn and peas, a couple of boxes of stuffing, jars of gravy, bags of rolls, and a few pies. The turkey is already at home, picked up at Cas’ request when Dean did groceries over the weekend so that it could thaw. _There. If we don’t use any of it tomorrow, it’ll still be good to use for our usual meals. No harm, no foul._

Hannah, his sister-in-law and the kids’ sitter, is at their house when he arrives. She lifts a brow when he says, “Help me hide this stuff, will ya?”

“And why are you hiding a ten-pound bag of potatoes?”

“Backup,” he explains as he stuffs them in the back of a cabinet. “Cas is trying to get fancy with the meal.”

“Ah,” she says, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “Give me the pies. I’ll take them home and refrigerate them. We’ll bring them on Thursday and keep them in the trunk, just in case.”

“You’re an angel, you know that?”

“I’m not sure if deception and collusion are angel activities, but thank you,” she chuckles.

Dean shrugs. “Never know. Either way, I appreciate it.”

Around 11:00, a weary Cas walks through the door, no grocery bags in hand. “I’ve been in hell all day,” he complains. “I was only gone for a few days and everything blew up.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” Dean says. He helps Cas shed his coat, then his suit jacket and tie before he begins to unbutton his dress shirt.

“How far are you going, exactly?” Cas teases.

“Not as far as I’d like,” Dean teases back, sliding the shirt off his shoulders. “Come on. Bedtime. You need to sleep. You look dead on your feet.”

“Travel hangover,” he mutters as he shuffles behind Dean.

“Yeah, I know.” He leads him by the hand to their bedroom and ushers him into the bathroom to take care of his teeth and his contacts, then relieves him of his shoes, socks, belt, and pants. He presses him down onto the mattress and follows him, pulling the blankets onto them as he does so.

“I haven’t shopped yet,” Cas grumbles.

“You have tomorrow.” Dean strokes his hair. “Right now, sleep, okay?”

“I should’ve gone tonight,” he mumbles groggily. “Save me time… tomorrow.” Dean shushes him and continues to scratch his scalp lightly with his fingernails. It takes no time at all for him to fall asleep. Dean kisses Cas’ forehead before closing his eyes.

Wednesday morning, Cas wakes up to a cacophony of whiny screams.

“I know, Robster, but Dad’s sleeping,” he hears outside the door. “Jamie, jeez, be careful babe, you’re gonna fall.” The sounds start to fade, but only because Dean is walking away, not because the boys are quieting down at all. He winces, feeling guilty for being gone all those days and then barely having any time to spend with them since he’s been back. Cas dresses quickly and slips his glasses on, saving his shower and contacts for later.

Downstairs, both boys are on the floor, wailing. Dean is trying to help them feel better by playfully gobbling at their bellies with stuffed animals, but it’s not working. He always tries so hard to help them stop crying, hating to see them in any sort of distress. Cas gets on his knees and peeks around the corner. “What are you doing, my babies?” he asks, voice low and rumbly. Both boys turn his way and wail louder until he comes to them and scoops them up. “Aww, it’s okay, my loves,” he whispers. God, he’s missed them. “Dad’s here. We get to hang out for lots of days now, okay? It’s okay, it’s okay.” He hugs them tightly, ignoring the multiple fluids collecting on his shirt.

“Poor little guys,” Dean murmurs, wrapping the three of them in a long hug. “Jamie nearly flung himself out of my arms when we passed our door and Robbie hasn’t stopped screaming since he saw me and not you walk into their room. They’ve missed you.”

“I know. I’ve missed them.” Cas kisses the boys, whose screams are now hiccuping breaths interspersed with the occasional cry, reminding him that they could start in again at any minute. He takes them to the living room and sits on the couch. Dean flicks the TV on to a quiet children’s cartoon, then gives them time alone while he cooks breakfast.

Cas doesn’t get to eat that breakfast — not hot, anyway, and not with his own hands. Dean feeds him a few bites when it becomes obvious that the boys are not letting him go. He spends the morning holding them, singing to them, reading to them, letting them crawl all over him on the floor, playing their chasing game (though he can’t get too far from them or they fuss). Lunchtime is on the living room floor, Dad kept within arm’s reach. After lunch, he tries to set them down for their naps, but they scream until he picks them up. “Okay, then,” he mutters, resigning himself to buying the groceries for tomorrow when they’re done sleeping. He tells Dean this before he heads to the master bedroom and lies down with them.

When the boys wake up, they seem more content and ready to go… just not to the store, which is where Cas and Dean take them. Dean tried to tell Cas it was a bad idea and even offered to go get his frou-frou ingredients for him, but Cas told him he’d already been working hard getting the house ready for tomorrow and he should rest. Dean tagged along anyway, not taking his husband’s bullshit attempts to martyr himself. Now, he’s sort of wishing he’d insisted on doing it for Cas or that he’d kept the kids with him and let Cas come alone. Either option would’ve been better than having a bunch of people in a crowded supermarket stare at the two gay dads who can’t control their unruly kids. The scrutiny, the sweat pooling under his arms thanks to the oppressive heat in the store, and the stress of the last several days have Dean on edge.

“This oyster stuffing better be the best gosh darn stuffing ever,” Dean growls through clenched teeth at Cas as they wait at the seafood counter. He stares at the squid and is reminded of his squirming son in his arms.

“I _told_ you that you didn’t have to come,” Cas snarls back, wrangling his own little squid.

“If you didn’t try to complicate this so much, we wouldn’t even be here.”

“We’d still have to shop for food, Dean. We can’t feed them air.”

“We _have_ food, Cas. I picked up food already.” Cas turns to look at him, question and realization both flicking in his eyes. _Oh shit. Abort, abort!_ “I mean, you know, the basics…”

“The basics,” Cas repeats with an unimpressed huff. “You know what? Whatever. Maybe this isn’t important to you, maybe you think it’s stupid, but it’s important to me.” He steps up to the counter as his number is called and requests the oysters.

With a sinking feeling, Dean pleads, “Cas, babe, I—”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Dean.” He turns away, not making eye contact with his husband but smiling his usual dazzling smile at the seafood clerk as he thanks her. _Fuck._ Cas drops the package into the cart and pulls it behind him as he walks away. Dean’s eyes alight on the gleam of his husband’s still-new ring from their vow renewal/not- _Star Trek_ -wedding last month. He sighs and follows, Jamie pouting and clamoring to get closer to Cas and Robbie.

The rest of the shopping trip is silent between the husbands. Cas knows he’s overreacting, but he’s pissed off that Dean prepared just in case he failed. Dean, meanwhile, is consumed with guilt for giving Cas a hard time about something he knows he has his heart set on. He should be supporting him, not giving him shit. The boys have calmed down, at least, and are babbling at each other and reaching out for whatever they think they can grab.

It’s Dean’s night to put the kids to bed, but Cas does it anyway, not wanting to take a chance that they’ll have difficulty falling asleep after a clingy day and thus be cranky tomorrow. When he’s done, he changes into sweats, then slogs into the kitchen to start prepwork for tomorrow. He plays some restful music turned low as he drags out the ingredients he’ll need. He won’t get much done tonight, but he hopes to at least make the pies and nutmeg ice cream. He’s just dumped the blueberry pie filling into a crust when Dean wanders in.

“Hey.”

He glances at him but keeps working. “Do you need something, Dean?”

“Just coming in to help.”

“No,” Cas snaps. “I’ll do it myself. That way, when it gets screwed up, it’ll be all my fault.”

“Cas—”

“You cleaned the house and helped me shop and took care of the boys by yourself while I was away, and you bought everything we’ll need in case things go to shit so everyone’s holiday isn’t ruined. You’ve done enough.”

Cas turns away dismissively and Dean’s shoulders droop. He’s really hurt his feelings, that much is obvious. Dean heads to the living room, Cas’ movements in the kitchen the sad soundtrack to his shuffled steps. He tries to read but can’t concentrate, so he watches TV. A while later, the lights in the kitchen turn off. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas peer at him. “Are you really watching that?” he asks. Dean emerges from his blank stare to see a rerun of _Bridezillas_. He shakes his head and Cas sighs. “I’m going to bed. I have to be up early. Are you coming or should I leave a light on for you?”

Dean glances at Cas. His arms are folded and his eyelids are drooping. “Comin’,” he answers. Cas nods once, curtly, then turns and heads upstairs, leaving Dean to catch up.

Dean had never understood how silence could be deafening until now, lying side by side with Cas. He doesn’t know how to make things better, but he knows he wants to. He just has to figure out how. “Are we the kind of couple who doesn’t go to bed angry?” he asks after several minutes. No answer. “Cas?” He sits up and listens more carefully until he realizes Cas is sleeping (or pretending to). _Apparently we do go to bed angry._ He frowns and flops onto his pillow, falling into a fitful sleep.

In the morning, it’s Dean’s turn to wake to chaos. Cas’ side of the bed is cold and there’s a lot of commotion from the kitchen. He dresses quickly and runs downstairs, where Cas is cleaning up the kids from their breakfast. They’re already dressed and the smell of turkey wafts from the oven, so they’ve all been up for a while. Dean feels horrible. He’d planned to get up before the kids to apologize to Cas and make amends (by helping to prep food or in other ways that might also involve prepping), and now he’s screwed that up, too. He tries to at least strike up a conversation, but Cas is businesslike and short so Dean figures he’s not ready to talk yet. He greets the kids and gets out of the way, taking them with him.

Cas is relieved when his husband whisks the kids away. He loves the boys, but it’s not easy to cook with them and their toys underfoot. He’s relieved, too, that he doesn’t have to deal with their fight just yet. Cas is mostly over it — he knows Dean was just being practical and that his actions weren’t meant to hurt him — but he doesn’t have time for a heart-to-heart right now. He has work to do.

As he preps the multitude of dishes he has planned, Cas realizes that he is short on both cookware and space on and in the oven. “No problem,” he mutters under his breath, though even he doesn’t believe it. He started early yet he’s still behind, the oyster shucking and breakfast for the kids both taking longer this morning than he expected. It doesn’t get any easier when their family starts arriving. Everyone is drawn to the kitchen and is just getting in the way. He shoos them out as politely as possible, telling them he has it under control, even though he really, really doesn’t. They politely don’t comment on that obvious fact. The adults know well enough to just let him be, but the nieces are another matter.

“Hi, Uncle Cas!” Anjuli and Shara, Gabe and Kali’s girls, shout as they hug his legs.

“Hi girls,” he greets them, taking a moment to kiss each of them on their heads. No matter how busy he is, he will always take time for them.

“Can we help?”

“Sorry, but this is complicated,” he answers Anji.

“We’re good helpers!”

“I know, baby girl,” he says before another little body crashes into him. “Hi sweetheart,” he greets his niece Ella, Sam and Eileen’s daughter, kissing her dark hair as well. Mike and Hannah’s kids Alfie and Lily come in next, Lily insisting on reading all of the instructions and peeking into his bowls while Alfie simply says hello and gives him a hug before disappearing. As the oldest, he’s a little too cool for his little cousins now. Anna’s daughter Nalia skips into the room, hugging Cas and showing him her Barbie dolls, then putting on some sort of Thanksgiving show for him. Cas sighs and resigns himself to having an audience.

Making the Thanksgiving meal is a hell of a lot harder than his parents made it look, Cas thinks. The pressure is on as the clock ticks toward eleven, and everything is going wrong. The turkey will be ready in an hour and he’s only done about half of the side dishes. He’s botched a couple of them completely, including Dean’s. The dough for the rolls didn’t rise. He's fairly certain he didn’t buy enough whipped cream. He’s exhausted and frustrated and he feels the urge to cry. Cas presses his lips together as his eyes water; he quickly swipes at them with his knuckles. He won’t cry over something as stupid as food.

“Uncle Cas, where’s the recipe for the regular mashed potatoes?” Lily asks.

“Right here, see?” he says, pointing to the recipe for Pommes Duchesses. Lily frowns.

“But where are the regular ones?”

“I’m not making regular ones. I’m making special ones. These have fancy tops and they’re crunchy.”

“Eww. Potatoes don’t crunch, Uncle Cas.”

_Potatoes don’t crunch._ Just like Dean said. He wonders why he ever tried to do this. Cas takes a deep breath and says _fuck it_. Everything’s going to shit anyway. “You want regular ones? Fine. We’ll make regular mashed potatoes, okay?”

“Yay! Can I help?”

“Sure, why not?” He tries to sound enthusiastic, but rolls his eyes heavenward when she isn’t looking.

A flurry of _I wanna help_ s come blowing in then, and Cas decides he’s lost all control and doesn’t care about making it special anymore. Now he just wants it to be done. “Yes. Yes, all of you can help. Lily, you’re on potato mashing duty. Anji, you get to mash the squash. Ella, you can put the rolls on the tray. Shara, you’re opening cans and microwaving stuff. Nalia, you get to mix the stuffing and put it in the dish to cook. Someone go get Alfie, I have a job for him, too.”

Dean is surprised to see Shara running into the living room, where everyone’s been chatting and waiting with bated breaths. “Alfie, Uncle Cas needs you to help cook!” she calls, her eyes bright. He stands and follows while Dean and the others glance at each other.

“Do you think we should check on him?” Cas’ mother Laurel asks.

“No, Ma, I think he just needs to do his thing,” Dean answers her. “You know how he can be.”

“That’s why I’m concerned,” she says, furtively glancing toward the kitchen.

When Alfie joins them, Cas puts him to work chopping broccoli and slicing carrots, which will have to be cooked in the microwave because there’s no room left on the stovetop. Cas digs out the cans of corn, peas, and cranberry sauce and the jars of gravy. While the potatoes finish cooking, he sets Lily to the task of cutting the jellied cranberry sauce into cubes for her father, as is the family joke. He makes the salad and sets it aside, making sure to remember that he has to dump some gravy on Sam’s portion (another family joke), then slices a piece of pie out of the several he made as an offering to the Ghost of Thanksgivings Past (Dean). Nalia mixes the stuffing ingredients together, since he already had that mostly made, and he pops it into the oven. When the potatoes and squash are ready, he guides Lily and Anji together as they mash them, each getting a few globs onto their clothes, his clothes, and the counter as they pump the mashers up and down. He helps Ella separate and butter the rolls that Dean bought, then takes out the stuffing and the turkey (it’s ready earlier than he expected, _great_ ) and slides the rolls in the oven. While the turkey rests, he helps Shara with the cans and gets her a step stool so she can reach the microwave. The meal is nowhere near what he wanted or imagined, but he’s pretty sure no one will starve. Alfie pours drinks while the kids help Cas set the side dishes on the table. As he gathers serving spoons, Cas realizes there’s an extra bowl on the counter that is very full but is supposed to be empty. _Just perfect._

“Nalia, honey, you were supposed to put the oysters in the stuffing,” he says, desperately trying not to pull his hair out.

“They looked yucky,” she says with a shrug.

“I know, honey, but it’s called Oyster Stuffing because there are oysters in it. I wanted to make that especially for Aunt Hannah.” He wipes a hand down his face. “You know what? Never mind.” He pulls out a pan and sautées them in butter on the stovetop. “You don’t have to eat them,” he promises her when they come out of the oven a couple of minutes later.

When Cas is satisfied that the meal is as ready as it’s going to be, he sends Alfie to call everyone in. The adults (and Alfie, having graduated from the kids’ table, and Jamie and Robbie, who are too young to be alone) take their seats at the adult table while the younger kids convene in the kitchen. Cas’ eyes scan the table and he realizes with horror that he forgot to make something very special. “Damn it, the sweet potato casserole!” he yelps, forgetting his language with his sons right there.

“On it!” Laurel says, jumping up and exiting the room. She returns a moment later with an insulated bag and pulls out the casserole, complete with Marshmallow Fluff on the top instead of marshmallows, as per their tradition. “I know you said not to bring anything, honey, but I wanted to help,” she explains.

“Thanks,” Cas sighs. “You’re a lifesaver.” He smiles wearily and gives her a side hug, then hurries into the kitchen to fetch a serving spoon. Anji, of course, jumps up and helps him look. There are no serving spoons or any other spoons anywhere.

“Here, Uncle Cas!” Anji says, waving a measuring cup at him. “It makes a good scoop!”

He closes his eyes. _A measuring cup. Classy._ “You’re right, honey. Thank you.” He takes the cup and returns to the dining room, sticking it on the casserole like a cake topper. Everyone watches with amused smiles, though Cas is anything but amused.

“Alright, I think we’re ready,” he announces with false chipperness.

Dean watches him as he sits. He looks like a man just barely clinging to sanity. Now that the food is made, though, Dean hopes he’ll relax and take time to enjoy everything.

“Ooh, Cas, I’m grateful for these!” Hannah says cheerfully as she reaches for the oysters. It makes Cas smile a little, but that smile disappears quickly.

“Oh yes, right, what we’re thankful for! I forgot!” Cas says, flustered. “Okay, yes, sorry. Hannah, you started us off, so go ahead.” She insists that it should be the hosts that go first and Dean defers to him, so Cas breathes deeply and stands.

“Alright, well, I’m thankful for—”

“Uncle Cas, can I have a roll?” Nalia calls from the kitchen.

“Yes, honey, one sec— oh my God!”

He takes off like a shot to the kitchen. Shortly after, the kids flood the dining room, a burnt smell in their wake. Dean leaves their family in charge of the boys as he runs to Cas’ aid. The rolls are a blackened mess. “Thankful I didn’t burn the fucking house down with everyone I love in it, goddamnit!” he growls under his breath before throwing the pan, rolls and all, into the sink. He opens a window to air out the kitchen, then looks around helplessly until his eyes fall on the loaf of bread on the counter. “This’ll have to do,” he mutters as he tries to pass Dean.

Dean blocks him and takes the bread from his trembling husband, then takes Cas’ hand and tugs him through the garage and outside, where they won’t be disturbed. He leans against the side of the house and pulls his husband close. “Explain it to me,” he says quietly. “What this all means to you.”

Cas sniffs and smacks his lips, his eyes watering. “When I was a kid, we had huge Thanksgivings, the kind where everyone came to our house and we were seated in three separate rooms just to hold everyone. Those were some of my favorite times. Everyone had fun together and the food was prepared by my parents with such love. They always tried to make it special. I used to imagine that when I grew up, I’d do the same. But as I got older, my dreams of having my own family were crushed at every turn, and I always lived in tiny apartments so I never had room to host the meal for my siblings and their families. Now I have everything I ever wanted, and I just wanted to show everyone how grateful I am for them and how special they are to me, and I wanted it to be meaningful, to show them I put thought into this. I decided I wanted everyone to have something special just for them.” He takes a shuddering breath and continues, “I wanted to make the Oyster Stuffing for Hannah because of a joke we had in college, and the oysters got left out of it. I wanted to make Tandoori Carrots for Kali to acknowledge her heritage, and the yogurt was expired even though we just bought the damn thing. I wanted to make Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage for you because we love German food, and it cooked too long and became soggy and wilted. I burned the rolls. I forgot the sweet potatoes. I had to use a bunch of the food you bought because I took on too much, like I always do, and now I’m out here moping and making everyone uncomfortable, and everything sucks.”

Dean gathers him in his arms and holds him until he feels his muscles release the day’s tension. “I hope our kids have a heart as big as yours,” he murmurs in Cas’ ear. “I hope they’re just as thoughtful, just as loving, and a little less stubborn.” He feels Cas smile against his neck. “Babe, we all know you love us. You don’t have to do all of that for us.”

“I want to.”

“I know, and we want to help you. You know, no one in your family cooks these big meals alone. We all pitch in one way or another. You have nothing to prove.”

“Feels like it sometimes,” Cas says into the curve of his neck. “I felt so inferior for so long, not being able to have a family. I feel like I’m playing catch-up.”

Dean squeezes him a little tighter. “I know, sweetheart.”

“And with the kids in the hospital on Thanksgiving last year… I know we made up for it later with everyone and it was great, it really was, but I just… I wanted this one to be perfect for you, and them, and everyone.”

Dean remembers last year’s Thanksgiving Day with a shudder. The boys being hospitalized was one of the scariest experiences of his life. Of course his sweet husband would want to do everything in his power to make this Thanksgiving better for all of them. “I’m sorry for not being supportive, Cas. Sorry for acting like a jerk yesterday at the store, too, and buying stuff behind your back.”

“Good thing you did.”

“Still, it wasn’t right.”

“It’s alright, hon. I’m sorry, too. I put us all through a lot of stress for no good reason.”

“You had good reasons. Great reasons. Maybe next time, if you let us help, we can make it the meal you really wanted it to be.”

Cas tilts Dean’s head down to meet his for a soft kiss of thanks. He chuckles as Dean makes it deeper and more enthusiastic. “We should get back,” Cas says when they pause for breath. Dean pouts but pulls away, then walks into the house with him hand-in-hand.

Taking their seats, Cas starts to apologize when he’s cut off by Gabriel. “I’m thankful for Candy Bar Pie,” he says, “and I’m thankful for Cas, my little bro who’s way more mature than any of us.”

“I’m thankful for Tandoori Carrots with Vadouvan Spice,” Kali says, “and for my brother-in-law Cas, who is so thoughtful of me and my heritage.” Kali interrupts his argument that he didn’t actually get to make them with, “I am thankful for the thought, and thankful that you have the recipe so you can have us over sometime and try again.” Everyone at the table laughs, including Cas.

Cas’ notebook with the menu, names of his loved ones written next to each dish, is passed around the table until everyone has acknowledged Cas’ efforts and told him why they’re thankful for him. He keeps from crying, but just barely, at least until his nieces join in. They’d been sitting in the living room (moved from the acrid kitchen) but are now done their meals and are jumping around excitedly.

“Can we say our thankful thing?” Anji asks her dad.

“Go ahead, love.”

“Okay! We, all of us”—she sweeps an arm behind her to indicate her cousins—“are thankful ‘cause Uncle Cas made us good mashed potatoes and he let us help him cook and it was fun, and ‘cause he loves us.” She grins widely as her cousins nod and wiggle behind her.

“Oh, girls, come here,” Cas says, kneeling on the floor and squishing all of his nieces in his arms. “I am thankful for you because you helped me remember what’s most important about Thanksgiving — the love of our family, having fun together, and eating good food that everyone likes. Right?”

“Right!” the girls shout.

“Can we eat pie now?” Anji asks. The girl loves her pie.

“In a little while,” he chuckles. He lets them go into the living room to play, then stands and gazes at the family gathered with him — his mom Laurel and her boyfriend Joshua, his brother Mike, sister-in-law Hannah, and nephew Alfie, his brother Gabe and sister-in-law Kali, his sister Anna, Jo and her boyfriend Ryan, Ellen and Bobby, his brother-in-law Sam and sister-in-law Eileen, his mother-in-law Mary, his sons Jamie and Robbie, and his husband Dean. He wipes his eyes. “I am thankful that I didn’t lose my mind today, though it was a close call,” he says to a round of laughter, “and I am thankful for every one of you. You have all made my life wonderful beyond compare. I tried to show you that today,” he shrugs.

“You show us every day, babe,” Dean says, taking his hand.

“Well, I try. Thank you for being here, for bringing extra food, for sending the kids into the kitchen to remind me what’s important, all of it. I love you.” He sits and they applaud and whistle as he shakes his head with a bashful smile.

That night, Dean talks to the boys as he gets them ready for bed. “It was a big day, guys. You guys did so good with all that pie.” He chuckles. “I think we made some new family jokes today, huh? Lots of good memories. You guys are so lucky to be part of a family like this, with a Dad who loves you so much. Dee too,” he says, smooching them.

“Dee,” Robbie says, rubbing his face into Dean’s neck.

“Dada,” Jamie says with his knees tucked into Dean’s sternum.

“I know, guys. Come on, let’s go night-night.” He plants kisses on their cheeks again, then lies them in their cribs. Neither resist sleeping tonight, which is good, because now that he and Cas have kissed and made up, he wants to have some time alone with Cas to make up some more.

Dean rounds the corner to their bedroom, where Cas is reading… or maybe not. He smiles fondly at his husband, whose glasses sit crooked on his face from slumping to his side. He removes his glasses, moves his iPad to the nightstand, and drags him down gently until he’s flat on the bed. He turns off the light and crawls under the covers next to his sleeping husband. “I’m so thankful for you,” he whispers, kissing his nose before he cuddles against his side and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading — I am so thankful for you! I hope you enjoyed this little revisit to our boys. More timestamps are planned, so if you enjoyed this and you’d like to read more about them, feel free to subscribe to the series Kinda Like Love. (Please subscribe to the series and not to this story, as I won’t be adding to this story.)
> 
> And for those of you who want to see the recipes referenced in this story:
> 
> Pommes Duchesses: https://www.saveur.com/article/recipes/pommes-duchesse-french-piped-potatoes
> 
> Oyster Stuffing: https://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Oyster-Stuffing-1000065850
> 
> Roswitha's Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage: https://www.quick-german-recipes.com/red-cabbage-recipes.html
> 
> “Tandoori” Carrots: https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/tandoori-carrots-with-vadouvan-spice-and-yogurt
> 
> Candy Bar Pie: https://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/no-bake-candy-bar-pie/


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